


Shot in the Back

by dragons_and_angels



Series: MASH Fics [4]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Tag, M/M, Pre-Slash, The Sniper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18600115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragons_and_angels/pseuds/dragons_and_angels
Summary: Frank was waving a loaded gun around the Swamp with the safety off. Only this time Frank's lack of knowledge about gun safety has some serious consequences.





	Shot in the Back

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked this episode. So many different ways it could have gone but instead we get incompetent Frank Burns and vengeful Trapper John.

The bang echoed in the Swamp. A physical impossibility but Trapper would be able to hear the sound of that bullet in years to come, an echo in his brain. A moment of silence after the bullet and then Hawkeye staggered, red blooming on his lower back, just below his kidney.

"Hawkeye," Trapper said, unable to reconcile the horror of what he was seeing. His friend was grasping the shaving basin, his knuckles going white, but Trapper couldn't see his face. "Hawkeye." He got there just in time for Hawkeye to collapse in his arms. Like a swooning maiden, Trapper thought half-hysterically. Hawkeye looked stunned, his face paling until it was the same greyish-white as the porridge they had tried to serve in the mess one time. "I'm here." Trapper was being useless, he knew that, but all he could do was hold Hawkeye and try to think about what to do next. He hated operating on wounded kids but he could do it, but his best friend bleeding from a gunshot wound in front of him and he went to pieces.

Frank was babbling something and Trapper looked up at him, much better to look at his ferret face than at Hawkeye bleeding in his arms. There was no room for anger yet, that would have to wait until Hawkeye wasn't gasping for air. "Frank, tell Henry to get the O.R prepped for surgery." Frank stood there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Frank, go!" The shout seemed to snap him out of his trance because the next second he was gone. Trapper sure he had left a dust imprint behind.

"I can walk, Trapper," Hawkeye said, slow and pained. It didn't sound like him at all but it was his voice and it was just what Trapper needed to hear. He was able to get a pad on the wounds to stop the bleeding (Hawkeye _bleeding_ was on repeat in his head) and half drag, half carry Hawkeye out of the door. The hospital was close by to the Swamp but he kept getting stopped by people on the way.

"What's wrong with Hawkeye?" they asked and Trapper didn't want to go into the details. He didn't think he could right now, all his mind was focused on getting Hawkeye into the O.R and getting the wound dealt with in time. Thankfully, no one got in his way. Trapper didn't know how he would have reacted if anyone had tried to stop him.

He saw the familiar faces of some of his favourite nurses. Not just because they were great dates but also because they were some of the more competent nurses they had. "Ginger, go and get Houlihan." Hate her if he must but she worked better with the surgeons than anyone else here. She may drive him as mad as Frank sometimes but at least she was competent and that was what Hawkeye needed. "Kellye, I need you to scrub up for surgery." The two of them were smarter than half of the 4077, they looked from Trapper to Hawkeye and asked no questions. A couple of the other nurses ran in other directions but he didn't particularly care where as long as he wasn't interrupted in the middle of getting Hawkeye to the hospital.

"Going to operate on me, Trap?" Hawkeye said so quietly that if Trapper didn't have everything in him tuned to Hawkeye, he would have missed it.

"Got to get that wound stitched up somehow." At such close range, the bullet had passed straight through the abdomen and if Trapper knew bullet wounds, then he would guess it made a far bigger mess going out than it did going in.

The mindset of a surgeon was easier to get into when they stepped into the hospital. Trapper ignored the questions about why Hawkeye was the patient, simply handed him to Kellye to prep for surgery and went to change and scrub up. At least it was a quiet moment, it meant there was no other cases to take Trapper away from Hawkeye. No people there he could feel guilty about betraying as he worked on his best friend because, doctor or not, Trapper wouldn't let Hawkeye bleed out simply to save another soldier so he could be sent back to the front to be blown into bits in some new way.

"What is going on?" Margaret Houlihan was a whirling mass of blonde hair and flashing eyes. One of the sexiest women Trapper had ever met but one of the most aggravating at the same time.

"Frank shot Hawkeye through the lower back. He's being prepped for surgery, I'm doing it and you're assisting." Trapper was already changing, uncaring of modesty right now and leaving the curtain open. Margaret gaped at him and Ginger, who had followed the major in, gasped at his words. "I told him to get Henry and prep the O.R but looks like he weaseled out of it."

"H-he's in my tent," Margaret stammered. "He shot him?"

"Yes and now I need you in surgery." Trapper started to wash his hands, more careful than usual not to leave anything untouched by the soap, and tried to make sure his mind was as blank as possible before going in. No thinking about what he was going to do to Frank after this. No thinking about what could go wrong. This was Hawkeye and he deserved nothing but the best from Trapper.

Margaret was there washing her hands for surgery, already dressed in her scrubs. "What happened?" Ginger was nowhere to be seen; Trapper's tunnel vision must have missed her leaving.

"Frank had a new gun and was showing us how bad he was with it. He pointed it at Hawkeye's back and the safety wasn't on. Accident or not, he shot Hawkeye." Trapper turned the tap off with his elbow and gave Margaret a serious look. "You help me help Hawkeye, but afterward you make sure Frank stays away. I see his face and I'm going to punch him. I see him anywhere near Hawkeye and I'll kill him. Got it?"

"Crystal clear," Margaret said. Her tone of voice and expression gave nothing away but she gowned and gloved like the rest of them. Trapper was careful not to look at Hawkeye's face when he approached the table. Kellye had set up everything just right and Ugly John was on anesthetics.

This was just another surgery. So what if the only person keeping Trapper sane over here was on the table? So what if he would return home a broken man if he left Hawkeye buried on Korean soil? It was just another surgery. A bullet wound he had done so many times before. He knew what needed to be done so he had to just do it.

"Doctor?" Margaret was looking at him without pity or concern or anything in her eyes. Right now, Trapper was more grateful for that than he could say.

"Ready." As he would ever be.

They had just opened Hawkeye up when gunshots started to ring around camp. The nurses flinched and ducked as the sound came far too close for comfort but they kept on working. Trapper didn't take his eyes off the wound. There was only one bullet he cared about at the moment and that was the one that did this damage to Hawkeye. He was being more careful than usual, making sure everything was stitched up correctly and he wasn't missing any tears. Everything else was secondary.

"What is going on here?" Henry Blake came into the O.R in his bathrobe, definitely a story there, and Trapper dumped another piece of bloody gauze in the tray. At least Henry was a distraction from the fact that he was covered in his friend's blood.

"Henry, unless you're sterile, get out." Trapper didn't look up and Henry didn't leave, though he didn't come any closer.

"Who are you operating on?" Another round of bullets from outside.

"Hawkeye. Now go and deal with your sniper and let me fix him." Trapper didn't let himself listen to anything more Henry said, he was sure if it was anything useful then someone would try and get his attention. Right now, he had to focus on Hawkeye.

More wounded were being brought in when Trapper started to close the wound. He didn't know where they had come from or what was going on with the sniper outside, but the surgery to repair Hawkeye had been successful. The exit wound had been the worst but the entry wound hadn't been easy to fix either. The bowel was repaired, the abdomen irrigated and all Hawkeye needed was rest and antibiotics to fight off any possible peritonitis. Trapper wasn't taking any chances.

"Trapper, you back with us?" Henry half-yelled from where he was bent over one patient. Frank was there, in the background, working far more quietly than he had ever done before and without Margaret by his side. Trapper watched Hawkeye go with one last look and then turned back to his table, stripping off his gloves and getting them replaced with new ones.

Another patient, but at least this one wasn't someone he knew. "I'm with you, Henry." Hawkeye would be there, at the back of Trapper's mind but he was fixed and Trapper could focus on other things.

 

Night fell and the wounded they had on their tables were finally in post-op. Trapper didn't bother changing out of his white scrubs before going to slump down by Hawkeye's bedside.

Radar had crept in at some point and was crouched down by the end of Hawkeye's bed. He hadn't seemed to want anything out of Trapper, merely cast worried glances at Hawkeye and open and close his mouth a couple of times. Trapper could understand his hesitation, there was something very wrong about Hawkeye being there, ghostly white and surrounded by wounded. If he had been one of the many wounded soldiers that crossed his table, Trapper would have said he was lucky. The bullet had pierced his intestines but it hadn't hit his bladder, his kidneys or his liver and the surgery had almost been textbook. He probably wouldn't have much of a scar, not with Trapper doing his best work in sewing him up. If he had been a soldier, he would be sent back to the front in two weeks. But it was Hawkeye, shot in the back by a fellow doctor and Trapper couldn't call him lucky in the slightest.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Radar ventured to ask when it looked like Trapper wasn't going to say anything. Trapper still wasn't inclined to speak at all, unless it involved getting to throw Frank over the front line to the North Koreans, but Radar looked like he was about to burst into tears if Trapper said one mean word to him.

"I'm not sure." The yawn ripped through him and he buried his mouth in his arm and tried not to fall asleep. "It's up to him really, though the morphine could be helping to knock him out. He'll probably take the chance to get some rest and end up sleeping the rest of the day." Everyone was bedding down for the night in the hospital but Trapper seemed to have a forcefield around him, probably helped by whatever expression was on his face now. Not even the nurses came to make small talk with him and normally he would consider that a loss but right now he wanted to focus on Hawkeye. He had pumped him full of antibiotics but an infection could develop all the same. He had seen patients who had better chances than Hawkeye deteriorate and get sent home in a box.

With Hawkeye taking the last free bed, everyone else was on the floor. Margaret came in and looked over Hawkeye's observations before bedding down near the end of his bed, in the middle of the floor. Trapper appreciated the loyalty, especially when he saw Frank come in and started to walk over to Margaret before doing a swift double back when he caught Trapper's eye.

"Is that the sound of optimistic Doctor McIntyre I hear?" Trapper was smiling even before he turned his head and saw Hawkeye squinting at him from the bed.

"Hawkeye!" Radar said as loudly as he dared.

"Hey, Hawk. How you feeling?" Trapper leaned his head closer and relished in his friend's smile. Margaret was watching from the end of the bed but she didn't come any closer, using the brains that came out whenever she wasn't around Frank Burns. Either that or she was waiting to see if Hawkeye said anything that could be used to defend Frank.

"Like I want to get the number of the truck which hit me. And my back is really itchy but I don't feel like I can lift a hand long enough to scratch it." Hawkeye turned his head to the side and caught sight of Radar who gave him a little wave.

"It's good to see you awake, sir," he whispered.

"It's good to see you awake too," Hawkeye said, seemingly bemused. "Radar, can I borrow your hand to scratch my back? I would ask Trapper but he looks like he'll fall asleep in the middle of it."

Trapper yawned as if his body wanted to prove Hawkeye's point. "Don't do it, Radar. Doctor's orders."

"I'm a doctor!" Hawkeye protested before pausing for a moment. "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Trapper asked, dropping his voice a little lower so Houlihan would have to strain to hear.

"Getting ready to go on my date," Hawkeye said. "Which I'm guessing I missed considering I'm in Post-Op. Frank was complaining about his gun and I was about to ask him why he needed one..." Realisation started to dawn on Hawkeye. "Wait a minute." He looked at Trapper and he knew what he was asking without Hawkeye needing to say a word.

"Frank shot you."

"He shot me?" Hawkeye sounded completely astounded more than anything else. "I can't believe Frank had the courage to shoot anything, let alone me." Then he thought for a moment. "My back was turned though and I can definitely see Frank shooting someone in the back."

"Yeah, well, I think it was more his incompetence caught up with him." Trapper could afford to be a little more lenient now Hawkeye was awake and his normal self. A little. He would still tackle him if he saw him anyway near Hawkeye but he might be able to see his face without punching his lights out. "Henry said he would deal with him after they had dealt with the sniper." Especially since the MPs couldn't get anywhere near the hospital without risking being shot through the head. After that explanation, Trapper could hold himself back. Just about.

Hawkeye twisted in his bed, the sudden movement making his face crumple in pain. "Don't be so quick on the draw," Trapper warned, already reaching for Hawkeye. He didn't do anything as Hawkeye was already lying down but he felt a lot better when he had hands on Hawkeye.

"Sniper?" Hawkeye persisted.

"He's holding the camp hostage. We have no idea what he wants and the fact that this is a medical unit has either escaped his notice or he doesn't care. We got some wounded in but there's a push on and we're worried that if there are any more wounded, we won't be able to get them in here." Hawkeye's brow furrowed and he looked concerned but didn't make any further move to get up. Trapper didn't let go off his arm, instead moving his hand down so he could take Hawkeye's pulse and feel the comforting beat against his fingers.

There was nothing more to say at that. As much as Hawkeye liked being the big damn hero at times, it was always a side effect of him just doing what was right. He knew he was too weak to be going anywhere and didn't even try.

"Trap?" Hawkeye looked like he was fighting sleep but his gaze was fixed on Trapper. "How bad is it?"

Trapper didn't move his fingers off Hawkeye's pulse but summoned up his usual grin. "Well, as well as shooting you, Frank didn't even have the decency to shoot you somewhere which would get you shipped home. Through and through, punctured your small intestine but missed everything else. Surgery went well, no fragments, though you've got a burn where the bullet went in. Probably why your back itches. Two weeks and you'll be up and walking."

"There's depressing and then there's depressing. Major Burns, unable to even shoot me in the back properly." Hawkeye was joking but Trapper could see the lines around his mouth. Pain and probably more than a little fear.

"Everyone's bunked down for the night in here because of the sniper. Go to sleep, Hawkeye." Trapper pushed gently on Hawkeye's shoulder and his friend went without a fuss, showing how truly tired he was. He waited until Hawkeye's breathing was the deep, even one of sleep and then Trapper settled down to sleep, one hand on Hawkeye's pulse and his gaze on the rest of the room. Margaret was still looking at him, her lips pressed tightly together in some emotion, but she looked away when he stared back.

Radar sat on the other side of Hawkeye, sitting up against the wall and Trapper finally let himself sleep.

Hawkeye slipped in and out of sleep the twelve hours, missing the sniper being shot down. Trapper wasn't there to see it either, he was using the excuse of seeing to all the patients in post-op in order to keep an eye on Hawkeye, but Radar came in with the news.

"What happened with the sniper?" Trapper asked. He wasn't as close to Radar as Hawkeye was but he felt like he had to throw the kid a bone. It was easier than stare at a Hawkeye who was far too pale and still, surrounded by wounded.

"He was shot down by someone in a helicopter. He's waving a white flag and Majors Burn and Houlihan are arguing with Colonel Blake about what to do with him," Radar reported dutifully. Trapper gave one last look at Hawkeye and pulled himself to his feet. He knew what Hawkeye would be doing if he was awake.

"Look after him until I get back, Radar." Trapper didn't listen for any protest or comment, simply walked out of the hospital and into the tent, retrieving Hawkeye's bag as he did so. He was still dressed in scrubs, his yellow bathrobe stained in Hawkeye's blood, and when he walked outside, the sun felt alien to him. He walked up to the three arguing officers without really looking at any of them. They fell quiet as he approached.

"McIntyre, how is Hawkeye?" Henry asked as soon as he was close. There were many times where Trapper wished Henry had a little more of a spine but at least he genuinely cared about his people.

"Still unconscious but the surgery went well." Trapper looked up at the bushes everyone had their eyes fixed on before he arrived. "Sniper over there?"

"He waved a white flag but the Majors here don't want to go anywhere near him."

"He shot up the camp!" Frank sounded outraged and, there, the anger right on cue.

"Frank, stop talking," he said, his voice vicious and low. He had been careful not to look at Frank, certain he would throw him through a tent wall as soon as he did so but if the man kept talking, his self-control would break. Trapper shoved the emotion back inside of him. Do what Hawkeye would want him to do so he could look Hawkeye in the face next time he woke up came first. Frank last, as always. "I'm going up."

"You sure, McIntyre?" Henry sounded both worried and relieved. Trapper nodded and then, following directions, climbed the hill to where the hedge was hiding the sniper. Trapper coughed, the exertion stirring up what remained of his cold, but he knelt beside the bleeding man.

"Lucky for you, my friend is far too moral for his own good." Maybe if Hawkeye had been well and elsewhere, Trapper would have climbed up to the sniper of his own accord. But right now he wanted to be in Post-Op with Hawkeye, rather than here.

Two hours later, the sniper was recovering under the careful watch of a MP and Trapper was standing in Henry's officer, for once alone against Frank and Houlihan.

"I want him arrested, Henry," Trapper said. Frank and Houlihan might get what they want from Henry by nagging or going over his head, but this was something Trapper cared about more than anything. "He shot Hawkeye."

"Filthy lies," Frank blustered but he only paled when Trapper turned to look at him. He wasn't quite sure what was in his eyes but Frank inched his way backwards, putting Houlihan in between them. She didn't say anything, her face pale and her mouth firmly closed.

"What happened?" Her voice was calm and firm, much like how Henry should be in this moment. If Trapper didn't dislike her so much, he would almost admire her at this second.

He took a deep breath and then looked at Henry, ignoring Frank Burns completely. "I was in the Swamp washing socks. Hawkeye comes in with some water and starts shaving. We're talking about his date and starts lathering up his face. Frank comes in and starts complaining about the water on the floor carrying a bible. He then goes and fiddles with his stuff before pulling a gun and cocking it. Hawk, he says Frank puts it away. You know he don't like guns." Trapper took a breath. And then another one. Careful not to look at anyone as he has to force back the image of Hawkeye bleeding on him. "Frank says he's cleaning it and we start joking about Frank and Freud. I walk over to the door and see Frank do this flip with the gun. Then it fires and Hawkeye is bleeding on the floor."

The silence lies heavy in the office. Trapper is careful not to look at anyone as he blinks at the floor, not wanting to cry in front of any of these three. Hawkeye was the only one he had cried in front of, and that sure as Hell wasn't going to change any time soon.

"Frank, is this true?" Henry asked, sounding tired but more bone-weary than the exhausted that came with a fourteen-hour shift.

Frank muttered and fumed and said something about McIntyre lying. For the first time, Margaret came to the rescue, setting herself against Frank Burns.

"Frank, Pierce is in Post-op with a gunshot wound. You had talked about showing me your gun today. How did Pierce get the gunshot wound?" Her voice is wooden, no sympathy to be heard at all.

"Margaret..." Frank's whine changed nothing and he seemed to finally give up. "It was an accident! I thought the safety was on!"

Henry moved to the door and asked Radar to get the MPs.

"You're incompetent and you're arrogant with it," Trapper said, his anger now having free reign as he listened to Frank's excuses. He brought himself up to his full height and balled his fists, telling himself that hitting Frank right before the MPs arrived would just leave him locked up as well and unable to see Hawkeye. "You're don't realise how bad you are, not just at doctoring but at guns too. That was why you were playing with it like a toy without the safety being on."

"It's not my fault," Frank protested. He was looking back and forth between Margaret and Trapper, maybe hoping for some relief, some mercy, some pity. But she didn't look at him and Trapper was at the point where he would shoot Frank himself unless he started apologising.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Hawkeye was standing in the door to Henry's office, looking pale and wan, sweating through the scrubs.

Trapper swore, enough to make Henry splutter and Margaret stare at him. "What are you doing out of bed?" He strode across the office to loom over Hawkeye. The most irritating man in the world stared up at him and had the nerve to not look the slightest bit scared. Instead, he mostly just look amused, on top of looking like he was ready to collapse.

"Frank did shoot me and he didn't even have the decency to shoot me somewhere which would lead to my discharge home. I wanted to be here to see him get arrested." Trapper grabbed Hawkeye's arm as he swayed and he turned to look as Radar came through the outer door with two MPs. "Radar, get me a wheelchair." Radar disappeared quick as anything and Trapper wondered if he had anticipated what he was going to say like he did to Henry all the time.

"I'm not sitting in it," Hawkeye said.

"It's either you sit in the chair or you go back to bed." Trapper couldn't see Hawkeye's face but he just knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Fine, fine." His tone was light and airy but Trapper had known him long enough to detect the sheer exhaustion behind it. Radar brought the chair while Henry was explaining things to the MPs and Frank was panicking.

"But you can't arrest me! He drove me to it." Trapper really wished he had taken the chance to punch Frank in the throat when he had the chance. "Margaret!"

"No, Frank." And that was done. The fight went out at Frank at the loss of his last ally and he was led out of Henry's office with the rest of them watching him silently.

"And we're down two surgeons," Henry said as he collapsed back onto his desk. He looked at Hawkeye. "How're you doing, Pierce?"

"Like I want to dance a jig, Henry," Hawkeye replied as sarcastically as ever.

"Hawk," Trapper said quietly.

Hawkeye looked up at him and sighed. "About as well as you could expect. But I don't regret getting out of bed, I have a fear of missing out on things."

"Back to bed, Pierce. McIntyre, I'm sure I don't need to tell you to make sure he stays there. Houlihan, let's get started on your statement and then I'll see about these two jokers."

Trapper took the opportunity to wheel Hawkeye out of the office. "You're going to have to buy me a drink first, Doctor," Hawkeye said in a ghost of his usual flirty tone and Trapper paused in the outer office, long enough for Hawkeye to twist his head up to see what the hold up was.

"How are you really?"

"I'm fine, Trapper. Just tired. You look like you've done twenty-four hours in the O.R." Hawkeye pulled at Trapper's arm and he knelt beside the wheelchair. "What's going on? We just got rid of Frank, this calls for a celebration."

"Yeah, well, I was hoping we could have gotten rid of him without you bleeding on the floor of our tent," Trapper replied darkly, only to startle when Hawkeye's hand came up to his cheek. This was not something he should be encouraging but it felt so damn good to have solid evidence of Hawkeye being alive and well that Trapper allowed it, leaning his head into Hawkeye's hand.

"I would have preferred that too. But I'm okay, Trap. No need to worry your pretty little head anymore." Hawkeye's thumb smoothed down his cheek and Trapper let out a breath. It was fine, Hawkeye was okay. "As soon as the good doctor lets me, I'll be out and recovering in the Swamp."

Trapper knew he should say something to make sure Hawkeye stayed in post-op but the thought of Hawkeye being right across the tent, where he could see him alive and well when his inevitable nightmares would wake him up - that was too tempting a prospect.

"The good doctor will only let you if you actually rest. No more trips out of bed." There was a noise from inside Henry's office and Trapper pulled back a little. A vengeful Margaret could make something out of nothing and he didn't want to give her any ammunition. "Come on, you should get back."

"Okay, but make sure everyone knows I need at least three sponge baths a day."

"I'll get right on that." Trapper wheeled Hawkeye back to his bed and make sure his friend was all settled before heading back to Henry's office. Might as well get his statement over with, the last thing he wanted was for Frank to get off.


End file.
